


Pavlovian Responce

by fandomfluffandfuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (if that's a tag I can use?), Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Avengers Family, Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Body Worship, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cause Steve Is Too Stubborn Otherwise, Comeplay, Coming In Pants, Couch Sex, Discussions About The Super Soldier Serum, Domestic Avengers, Feminization, Insecure Steve, Insecurity, Kink Discovery, Lessons Through Sex, M/M, Mentioned- Bottom Bucky and Top Steve, Mentioned- Breeding Kink, Napping, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pregnancy Kink - Mentioned, Recovered Memories, Teasing, Tits Kink, Top Bucky Barnes, character study -- kinda, tit worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfluffandfuck/pseuds/fandomfluffandfuck
Summary: Over a few months Bucky undergoes a secret mission to make Steve like his body again and to feel comfortable for the first time since he got the serum, focusing directly on his largest insecurity- his chest, or, his pecs to be exact. Through said mission he accidentally trains Steve to get turned on from random sensory input that crosses his chest.Or, alternatively; Steve goes running and can't take the way his chest jiggles because it just reminds him of what happens when Bucky fucks him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 22
Kudos: 232





	Pavlovian Responce

**Author's Note:**

> You can come scream at me on Tumblr if you wish! It's the same username as I have here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fandomfluffandfuck

Pav•lov,•i•an Re•sponse  
/pävˈlōvēən,pävˈlôvēən/ /rəˈspäns/

Noun

A theory named after a Russian physiologist, Pavlov, considering how learning procedures and responses work in psychology, being observed as effective in animals including humans. The theory states that when the test subject is presented with two unrelated stimuli if you then force one of the stimuli to relate to the other and provide a strong reaction (i.e. fear, hunger, excitement, etc.) in the subject because of it, then eventually you will no longer need one of the stimuli to provide the conditioned reaction. Transferring the reaction from two combined stimuli into one. 

Example:  
If you present a bowl of food (the unconditioned stimulus) to a dog and ring a bell (the neutral stimulus) every time they are allowed to eat said bowl of food, eventually, the dog will salivate in response to the bell alone. Without the presence of food at all. 

When Steve came out of the ice, Bucky knows he didn’t have any time to himself, even when people were telling him to “catch up” they were stealing his time away from that very exploration. Doctors would recommend TV shows and books and movies and music and plays and everything in between while running test after test, taking enough blood to fill a bathtub that even Steve would fit into and running every possible workup they could think of with it. Promising only that they wouldn’t try and pull the serum out from his blood the way they had attempted back in the forties right after Erskine was assassinated by a HYDRA mole. Everything else was on the table though it seemed. 

And even then, it hadn’t even been Steve’s call. No. It was Nick Fury’s call, director of SHIELD, who apparently didn’t want to have to deal with the hell that would break loose if they discovered they could do that. Steve still remembered the exact words he had used when they met for the second time, he had told Bucky them once in the middle of waking up from a mild nightmare, “you can’t beat a dead horse and you sure as hell can’t milk a dead cow.” Literally saying straight to Steve’s face that he wasn’t worth it because he was “dead” and that when living he was a threat to public safety. Bucky knew it stung his best guy, his best friend, more than he let it show because things always sunk deeper with him that he let people know. Like one of those puddles, or in Steve’s case it would be more of an ocean, where you step in it and the water goes up over your shoe and soaks your ankles- deeper than you expected and now you have to live with the uncomfortable feeling for the rest of the time it takes to dry. Steve doesn’t dry. 

He never has; he got in a fight in the seventh grade and had to get pulled away by the principal's booming voice and threats of being kicked out, even while it was an honourable fight, Bucky swears if he brought up the fact that he remembered it in this new lifetime of theirs the testy blonde would still be mad. He’d still grovel about how it wasn’t fair, even in the modern world, how women young and old were treated contrarily to men. 

Fury hadn’t even been the worst of it, no, people on the street and close friends alike were bad too- not always worse than Fury’s offhand comments but people seem to always get under his skin. Most of the attention revolving around either his shoulders or chest, likely because of both of the aforementioned feature's size. Bucky wonders if he just has too thick of skin so that when people do peel it up even the serum can’t heal him fast enough to save him from people poking and prodding at the wound. The time that will forever stir Bucky’s blood the wrong way was when Natasha had been wondering aloud if Steve or Bucky could get tattoos or if their similar but also differing serums would wash away the ink. Leaving them to be “doomed” with “plain skin” forever, not the worst comment, not at all but then Bucky had wanted to ask her if she had any non-”plain skin” and Tony had gotten there first. Filling the silence with a comment that had Bucky's lip involuntarily curling up. 

The spitting image of his father surfacing as he stuck the entirety of his foot and possibly calf into his mouth, “dunno about that Cap, chilly trooper” (another nickname he’d come up with for him, this one just a different way of calling him the Winter Soldier) “might be fine but you better watch out- don’t want you defacing government property or anything.” 

Steve had stewed in his dejectedness for literal days after the comment slipped out of Tony’s mouth to slap him in the face and Bucky had been stopped multiple times by Sam, Natasha, and even Clint from demanding JARVIS to tell him where Stark was and going on a mission that considered purely of "defacing" his body with a punch to the face. 

Although, as much as he will deny it until the day god finally declares him able to die, Bucky knows that that comment brought an epiphany onto him, one that meant he was able to help Steve. He knows he eventually would’ve gotten to the very same realization on his own and that the stupid fucking comment only pushed him to reach the starting point of the marathon faster but he still doesn’t like that that’s how he got here. The start of the marathon, he’s been out of HYDRA’s clutches for almost a year and the first year (excluding the time of the wild goose chase Steve, Sam, and Nat were on to find him) he’s spent on his own. Mostly because almost every doctor was too scared to have him as a patient and regular citizens certainly weren’t too keen on being around a murder weapon which gave him an unconscious advantage over Steve. He’s not finished the marathon but he’s running it, Steve hasn’t started it. 

See, Bucky knows he also has the advantage of not having the massive growth spurt that Steve did with the serum he got so he was never that out of sorts with his entire body. Hasn't had the experience of going from matchstick thin to thickly muscular with enough height to tower over most. He just had to deal with the arm they gave him and maybe an inch or two, the muscle weight came on much later with increased meal portions, and even then he was fully trained to use the arm both in combat and in regular activities because what good is a sniper slash spy if he can’t blend in with normal people because he’s too busy fumbling with things like opening packages or sipping coffee? 

Steve never got any training with what his enhanced body could do- no one knew what he would be able to do! Especially back then when he got it. He never got anytime to adjust to his new body either, not really. He got the serum then the creator of it was killed and then he was a propaganda pawn for short of a month and then he was disobeying orders in the field with literal and metaphorical shaky limbs and knowledge on what he could do. The most he was trained in the forties was learning how to lift a motorcycle with three dames on it over his head and how to throw a frisbee as if he hadn’t ever played football in the dingy streets of Brooklyn. 

Then he was frozen for seventy years. Alone. Cold. And dark.

Bucky had been trained and brainwashed most of that century, honing skills and frightening highly powered individuals. It wasn’t that he was lessening his own trauma, no, Steve would kill him for that. It’s that he doesn’t have the same trauma that Steve does. 

Again- he knows Steve didn’t even get to adjust once out of the ice with the doctors and flashing lights of the new world and every tiny distraction that amounted to what to Bucky sounds like one long depressed haze. He wishes he could’ve been around and with his best guy at that time. He does. With everything he has in him. He’s spoken with Sam and how he didn’t know Steve for long before they had joined forces to look for the Winter Soldier but that he couldn’t have ever pegged a moment where he was happy before he had Bucky back. Then when Bucky was with him he was processing- relearning himself and how to be his own person. Forgetting- or rather neglecting to make sure Steve did the same. 

As a final result, Steve hasn’t dried out, no he’s held onto every little comment. Good and bad. Now he’s got tsunamis inside of him, rocking and shattering any boat that dare tame him, soaking him with the good and bad. Most of the waves are solely bad, as they’ve always been, Steve may talk like an optimist and walk like a realist but he thinks like the worst pessimist. Holding onto every tiny raindrop that’s revolving around his body and what the serum did to it until he could flood New York, he could submerge the empire state building with the water he carries, the burdens. And Bucky sees it. He does. Every day- from the way he neglects to properly bandage himself to using his own body as a shield, flesh and blood that gets treated by everyone else as vibranium and so he’s started doing the same. 

The first time Bucky saw that after his realization was post-shower, they had showered together for the purpose of just being allowed to breathe together and touch each other. Nothing adventurous, just hands on hips and sometimes a shoulder, swaying their way into a perpetual hug. It was after one of the first missions Steve had let himself go on in the near year he had had Bucky back with him. Tired and beaten Steve had showered not because he smelled bad or felt bad but because that’s what you do, you clean your weapons after you use them to ensure they’re ready at the next notice. To make sure they aren’t grimy or dirty or misfiring the next time. His eyes glazing over his own form in the same way Bucky had watched him look at his shield in the last year, the familiar look frightening him because he knows what that is. To feel like a machine, needing maintenance not aftercare. To look at yourself (for him it had mainly revolved around the arm once he was mentally able to understand he'd escaped and was safe) and see a machine, not a human. 

Bucky had thought for weeks on how to fix this, how to make Steve see his body as his and not fucking “government property” or an experiment or a product of a test tube or a miracle of science or Erskine’s best work or anything like that- anything meant to insult or even meant as a so called harmless joke. No. He needed to see him for him. So things like making Steve become aware of the problem by talking was out then- his guy was way too stubborn for even a long discussion to do any good. This had been harboring deep in him for too long and it wouldn’t end that way, with words alone, it would be more likely to just make it worse. 

After discussion sex was his next thought for a solution and ultimately it would shape up to be the winning path. Just not in the way he originally thought; sex had always been the best way to prove a point to his guy, no matter his body or the time period. Even when it was illegal for them to even look at each other the way they did inside the paper thin walls of their private, bareboned apartment- especially then because Steve wouldn't take any words from anyone as pure truth. So Bucky learned he needed hands on learning: fighting or fucking. 

The first time sex worked to end a discussion was with the lack of rent and food money Steve was bringing home. There had been barely any or just flat out no work at all for Steve back then, he’d sometimes get odd jobs that only an artist could do, but other than that there wasn’t anything. Bucky had told him not to worry about it, just to pick up what he could and that that would be more than enough. Yet the message never sunk home, no matter the level they raised their voices to, it didn’t stick, not until Bucky had had the day off from both his job at the docks and the general store down the street. He had spent the day stretching Steve out on the good bed in their tiny apartment, "good" meaning it didn't squeak and so it wouldn't give them away. The whole day had been devoted to loving on him. 

Kissing him and touching him everywhere save for where it counted until he has as worked up as ever and crying with it, mad with it even. His bum ticker going as fast as it could and his gasping dangerously close to turning to wheezes echoing of his horrible lungs. Right when his breaking point came- when Bucky knew he would begin to beg and plead (something that as rare and hot as it was to see he didn’t want right then) for his release, then Bucky had let him cum. Shoving him off of the cliff with his lips wrapping up his dainty little cock and then transitioning into welly jerking him off, fast with lots of pressure the way he liked, and all the while telling him, even though he’d spent the day showing him, “yeah, yeah, see- don’t ya see, sweetheart, I’ll always take care a’ ya- give you what you need.” 

The message had stuck then. 

At first when he’d fallen back to the idea of using sex to bury what was best for Steve into his thick skull he hadn’t had that many memories of exactly what they did back in the day- just the fuzzy lines and hazy feelings that even when diluted had felt unbearably pleasurable. The good memories always came back last. He had taken his own marathon of learning to figure that out and then accept it. So for a while he figured he would base it in what they did during the current century instead of the past- thinking on the idea of making Steve tell him who he belonged to. Who made him feel good and who controlled when he got his pleasure and how much of it. Although they had done that before- it wasn’t the full out make-a-day-of-it that Bucky would have planned but it was good enough to prove as a test run and unfortunately he didn’t think it would work looking back at it. No, that wouldn't do. Neither making Steve proclaim himself as belonging to Bucky or using something they both indulged in often in this time. Subconsciously it will help, will hit him so much harder, if it's something he used to enjoy in his first body. The one nature had cursed and inadvertently blessed him with. So that was a no-go… 

He just had the feeling that if he really centered on that of him being Bucky's in that specific way repeatedly and consistently instead of just when the mood struck them both that it would do more damage. He didn’t want to risk pulling Steve further from the ownership of his own body. He couldn't even bare the thought of it- none of it was fair. 

He had been in the shower washing his hair and playing tug-of-war with a strand of hair that slipped into his metal hand at exactly the wrong time, during the recalibration of some of the small plates at his knuckles, finally undoing his game with excessive conditioner to use as lube and slip the piece back out without pulling out the chunk of misbehaving hair. The memory wasn’t perfect, hazy at the edges as if it was just a torn up postcard or picture from their original time or maybe like it had happened late at night making the world extra blurred, but it was also too good for his HYDRA mush brain to have come up with and it certainly wasn’t a daydream- he had been very focused on getting his hair untangled. He actually has learned he likes the length, now that he doesn't feel like the Soldier anymore, besides if he ever sits down in a padded barber chair it'll be a cold day in hell.

Anyway- yeah, he was focusing too hard for it to have been a daydream. 

The basis is as follows: Steve used to love, and Bucky means LOVE, having his nipples played with despite the fact that now Bucky knows it's the part of him he loathes most. His pecs stick out and aren't exactly "normal" looking because that's not how his body's muscle composition works. Messing with Steve's nipples used to be a normal part of their protocol, especially because before he had the serum when he couldn’t always get that hard, or hard at all because of his inadequate blood flow or his bum heart. The time when raising his heart rate to the point of being fully hard would more often than not make him lightheaded and a little loopy. But Bucky learned his stubborn streak from watching and dealing with the best, plus he is nothing if not an out-of-the-box thinker, so Bucky would spend time messing with other areas of his best guy. Quickly the perfect nubs set delicately on his bird boned chest had gotten their share of attention. Torturing them into hard points against his gorgeous slim chest and relishing in the sweet little keens and whimpers that came out of him. Softer noises then he would usually ever permit himself to make because it undid him that much. 

Though this particular memory wasn’t just that, just a bit of fun from a discovery that left them both buzzing with feel-good hormones and giddy grins. No, this memory had taken it’s time coming back to Bucky for good reason. He didn't blame it now that he had it, leaning heavily on the sturdy structure of the shower wall and gripping the base of his cock like he has the self control to stop himself from hardening and thickening under his hand. 

They were back in their drafty, miniature, built of playing cards apartment. The light bathing them golden with either the sunset or the watery haze of a just remembered memory, unstable and twirling around his mind like a prized flag. Bucky finds himself in a smaller body, not with the same contrast of Steve's pre and post serum body but more compact nonetheless, younger too. His own janky serum yet to bulk out his muscles wider than even Steve would be eventually. He's kneeling over Steve, kneecaps sinking into the soft surface of the mattress, any firmness it claimed to possess when bought having been beaten out of it from years of use. Including rough housing from them both in their younger, more innocent in their movements than anything that came from playful fights now. 

Steve had been laying on his back, his chest rising and falling with hitches of lean muscles, breathing puffing out in the unsteady but persistent way they always had then. The most delicate pink daring to paint his fair, freckled skin, and even points of his nipples standing out against the gentle slopes and sharp valleys of his skinny frame- they were always pretty. Whether or not he was flushed with arousal. 

For a moment he sucked out of the memory and back into the hazy, steam fogged world of the shower. Hand fisted lazily around his cock while half baked confusion floats around his head- why had he been on his knees? Why straddle Steve’s chest like that- back then Steve had always been the one on the receiving end of the fucking, even on his best health he usually couldn't fuck Bucky and they know now that Bucky doesn't enjoy assplay in the same astronomical way his guy does so… well, to put it crudely, it didn't make sense because it wasn't like he was going to sit on Steve’s face or have some of his artist fingers slide back behind his balls. 

Then with the upstroke of his calloused hand on his cock, twisting and bumping the seam between his shaft and head, he gets his answer. 

The memory flooding back in with a vengeance, sights and sounds almost knocking him off his feet. His toes curl and he tears at the inside of his cheek with his teeth, swallowing the noise of pleasure that beg to escape his lips. 

He had been there, thighs trembling and bracketing his fella's visibly boomeranging ribs so he could jerk himself off. Fisting his cock and biting his lips to keep his noises down, just like now, staring down at the golden haired angel below him. While occasionally letting his lip breath so he could whisper filth to Steve, encouraging the tight grip the blonde had on his own chest. Twisting his nipples and casting his lithe, tiny hips up like there was a hand on his dick or a few fingers tucked up in that equally pretty pink pucker. 

Little hitching pants and moans that were edging to wheezes becoming more and more frequent. The trembling of his own muscles matching the random twitches of Steve’s hands as he assaults his own nipples, lips gaped open and sinfully red. His wide blue eyes, skewed to look even bigger and more doll-like with the thinness of his face, open and staring up at him. Owlish and glazed, darkened with lust and pleading without words. 

The Bucky from the past obeys the silent command, cursing and fighting to stay upright as he cums, spilling over his hand and dripping down onto Steve's chest. Dirtying up his porcelain skin and hands, making him rub and twist at his chest harder, faster, desperate to cum now that Bucky has. 

Bucky takes over, collecting more of his release and spreading it further over his guy's skin, stopping only to harshen the assault Steve was giving to himself, positioning his body so the blonde can hump up against his leg. Throwing enough of his weight over the smaller man to ensure he doesn't thrash too much, slotting his lips over his to muffle the gutted groan that he can hear before it breaks free of his mouth. Swallowing the side and flexing the muscles in his thigh to give him even better friction- 

Current Bucky follows past Steve over the edge, his eyes flying open with surprise, not having meant or expecting to have actually got anywhere with touching himself. He gasps and moans, the noise muffled by the slowly cooling stream of water rushing around him. A blanket of white noise to cover his early morning session. Faintly he wonders if Steve's left for work yet or if he heard all that, if he was close enough to hear it-

He flushes, freezing like he's been caught head handed doing something he shouldn't be but laughs at himself after a while. Thawing himself from his stupor and shaking his head- again Steve has absolutely zero self control when it comes to sex. If he had heard he wouldn't have been able to stay out of the bathroom, hell, he would've been in here within seconds. Very possibly breaking down the door it the process as he tends to get more stupid the more turned on and one of his favorite things was a horny, very enthusiastic partner which Bucky is. Especially when being caught. He chuckles more as he steps out of the no longer running shower, reaching for his towel with a dripping hand, wouldn't have been the first time he was barged in on while having a wank in the shower. 

The last time was incredibly memorable, Steve had come back from a mission and had heard Bucky having a very enthusiastic session in the shower (he'd been gone for a week and Bucky was trying his best to hold out but couldn't any longer) and had just come in. With his tac suit still on. Fully. Jumping into the shower fully clothed, boots included, and had started grabbing at Bucky. Manhandling them to be back to chest so he could hump into Bucky's ass and jerk him off at the same time. Proclaiming dorkly after that he was just planning to wash himself and his suit at the same time. 

Other things they did before the war would probably frustrate Steve because everything revolved around keeping him safe and healthy- being held down and forced to not raise his admittedly perfect heart above more than a resting rate would be difficult. And his brain would probably take it the wrong way. First off while, yes, technically Bucky can hold down Steve the poor guy does tend to completely forget his strength when he’s aroused and out of his head. Bucky doesn’t want to accidentally force Steve to hurt him or himself when he makes him lie there and take it- that wouldn’t be any fun. And if anything it surely would make him feel worse, being uncontrollably strong when he’s not focusing on what percentage of strength to use and then hurting Bucky as a result. Bucky can already feel the disappointment and anger that would be coming off of his guy in waves. 

However, reasons for going down the path of nipple attention specifically aside, Bucky needed a plan of attack. One that Steve would never see as a plan, no, he needed to think this was either something for Bucky or something that was just spur of the moment. 

So that launched the start of “accidentally” training Steve to like his new body because, yes, Bucky does love how he looks and wants Steve to love it too but also because he can’t fucking stand seeing the days where Steve comes back from showering or using the bathroom in general looking like he kicked a puppy by accident. He won’t stand for it any longer and soft forehead kisses accompanied by rib crushing hugs only go so far. 

Baseline: Bucky wants to rip this overall appearance insecurity out by the roots instead of cutting off new buds when they appear above ground. He knows if he lets it keep spreading like the weed it is, it’s going to choke the soil of Steve and he’ll be back to the man he’s heard about from before he knew Bucky was still alive. Depressed and lifeless and running himself into the fucking ground. 

Bucky starts small. Brushing his fingers over his best fella’s nipples in such a light fashion that it easily could be blamed on a slip of hand, an accident and nothing more as he strips him of his shirt. Relishing in the deepening tint of pink it dyes his chest and pretending to catch on to it, connecting their lips and pressing Steve bodily down, softly brushing over his nipples and swallowing the gasps that come from the man under him. 

Then when Steve stops blushing like a schoolgirl having her first kiss when Bucky just barely brushes his nipples as they kiss or strip one another he begins intently touching them. Using the gorgeously sensitive skin as more of the main event with foreplay rather than hiding it under warm-up sloppy kisses that get them both raring to go. And he doesn’t do it every time they get intimate, no, that’d be too obvious. So he does it randomly, sometimes leading with pressing in on his chest over his shirt when they lazily start making out or ending their foreplay with it. Brushing and squeezing the soft skin of the mounds of his pecs until Steve is brave enough to reach up and lead Bucky’s hands to other, more interesting places. 

The second stage, when he stops “accidentally” leading his hands to the pretty pink points on his chest, takes longer for them to move past. It’s more direct attention, so it’s to be expected though, Bucky will let him take his time. 

Bucky doesn’t really stay torturing the skin of his pecs for too long after Steve’s squirming begins because this isn’t about being uncomfortable, this is about feeling good, letting Steve call the shots and grinning privately into his neck when one evening they’re back to chest and the blonde puts his own hands over Bucky’s where they’re cupping his chest. Delicately petting his nipples and making him go breathless and soft, clearly feeling good but not really wanting to, not liking the way his chest looks and therefore not wanting to feel it like this. Comments about needing sports bras to run and similar shit working their way into his brain like an insistent stream of water against a rock for thousands of years- eroding him away. 

“Wh-?” He breathes softly into the empty air in front of them, curling further back into Bucky because the attention feels good and he wants more subconsciously but it’s also making him aware of them and how there, how big his pecs are and needing comfort from where he gets it after a bad bout of insecurities. His hands continue to hover over Bucky’s, Bucky just hums, shushes him and pinches his nipple a little. Not hard enough to hurt so he’s one hundred percent sure the whimpering moan he makes is one of pleasure not pain. He grins again. 

“Love all a’ you, that’s all.” Bucky mumbles and pinches his guy’s other nipple for good measure. Adoring the weak groan it gets him for his trouble, “and doesn’t it feel good?” He trails his other hand to the blonde’s elbow, encircling it and bringing his hold up to his wrist, guiding Steve’s hand into his lap and whispering that he should touch himself- let him take care of him. 

Steve obeys beautifully that night, jacking himself off and making breathy feel-good sounds with every exhale, letting Bucky play gently with his chest so long as that’s not the main focus. Bucky knows that’s the rule- he figures it out real quick with the little distressed noises mixed in with pleasure when both of his hands are on his chest. He tries a different tactic. Just making his nipples part of the equation- fading the sensation even more into the background. Making sure one of his hands is petting over the miles of smooth, pale skin in front of him. Brushing his thighs reverently, stroking down his twitching abs, fondling his full balls, cooing into his ear, and telling him when to go faster or slower. 

It works fantastically, keeping one hand on his chest to swipe and pinch and pet at his nipples and pecs while the other explores, making itself home in the other areas Steve’s more comfortable with, by the end of their session Bucky can see a change in him. It’s subtle enough that he knows Steve doesn’t know what just happened but doesn’t care, he’s too floaty and loose from being loved on. Bucky appreciates it and if he’s grumpy in the morning because he’s tired it’s certainly not because he stayed up to watch Steve sleep when he looks like that, no, he’ll blame bad dreams and the octopus that is his lovely boyfriend. 

The next time they have time to fuck around Bucky can move on from heavily distracting Steve in order to pay attention to his nipples, not afraid of him slipping back again because the other day he fell asleep on Steve, or rather, on Steve’s chest with his head pillowed on his pecs and woke up because his guy shifted. Bucky had lifted himself up sleepily, expecting it was because he wanted to get up or something but had found when Steve told him to go back to sleep that his nipples were hard, poking through his shirt, and that his dick was hard in his pants. Bucky hadn’t said anything. He’d just pretended to be too sleepy to notice. 

And had smirked his way through the apartment when they got up later and Steve had gone into the kitchen, saying he was getting a drink, Bucky had got up a couple moments later only with the intentions to grab his laptop from the bedroom but… Steve had been half facing the microwave, waiting for what was likely tea to heat up and had been messing with his t-shirt. Plucking at the fabric and staring straight ahead, a blush staining his cheeks. No big deal right? He wears unfairly tight shirts, surely he needs to readjust sometimes?

No. It was a big deal, big enough to make Bucky smirk until he returned from the bedroom to face his stupid boyfriend because he saw that blush and he heard the little moan his advanced hearing could pick up from down the hall. The shift of fabric too- too soft to have been his jeans, so he wasn’t palming his dick, no, he wouldn’t have even gone into the kitchen or have moved to do that. He must’ve been palming his pecs. Shit. 

Then, getting the incidental sign from Steve to commence going from having to distract Steve to just outright giving his pecs attention began. 

Steve wanted to fuck him that night, and they do switch, so it’s not out of the ordinary but wanting Bucky to ride him is. Typically Steve’s M.O. with fucking Bucky is plowing him so that even with his serum he can’t walk properly for a while which made it weird for him to ask for that. 

Nonetheless, Bucky said he was up for it because he was, really, it did sound like a helluva good time, getting Steve under him and watching his face. Which really- for Bucky -is the best part of letting someone fuck you, yeah, he does enjoy the sensation of Steve wrecking his prostate and hole but he’s not like Steve where you touch his prostate and he’s drooling and completely out of his mind and a mindless puppy who needs to get off (and usually can without a hand to his cock). Bucky enjoys himself when Steve fucks him but he’s not as sensitive as Steve so most of the time what gets him off is the faces he wakes because, sweet jesus, his baby makes these expressions that have his cock aching just remembering them. You squeeze that dick of his into something and he’s a goner. Plowing load after load into him because he might be able to hold off an orgasm when Bucky’s the one doing the fucking by stopping the touches to his dick or by holding the base but… you can’t exactly do that when inside someone. 

Every time Bucky’s on bottom they both end up cumming multiple times, Steve filling him up to the brim and Bucky being overwhelmed from the attention to his dick that Steve pays him. Always sort of guilty that Bucky’s never been as uncontrollably slutty for a dick in his ass, which, that’s something he should probably try to help with too-

Although it’s not until after their marathon fucking, when he’s laying on his back on the bed with enough baby batter leaking out of him to impregantate all those chorus girls from long ago that he realizes why Steve wanted him to ride him. His chest heaves with exertion, choking on his gasp of realization just a little. The cheeky fucking bastard, Steve just inadvertently asked Bucky to pay attention to his chest in bed, without having to say anything about it too. 

Getting him to ride him. 

Bucky may not go insane with a dick in him but he obviously is affected- if he wasn’t he’d buy Steve a fleshlight and tell him to plow it while Bucky laid back and watched and talked him to his finish because holy fuck is bottoming a lot of work, and he knows Steve wouldn't even want to if he didn't reciprocate. And one of the things that he does a lot when bottoming is squeeze at Steve. At any piece of him that he can reach. Always digging his fingers into Steve’s biceps, his ass, his ribs, and this time his chest… Steve had him ride him for the point of getting that extra touch of pleasure. Directing Bucky to help him figure out if he does like the attention paid to his chest when it's intense and… well, the whole time he acted a bit more like he does when bottoming and overwhelmed with the sensations. More eye rolling and boneless puddle of man and breathy noises and drool than usual when he fucks Bucky. 

Oh. 

Bucky rolls over, looking at Steve’s sleeping form and scanning him down. Yep. 

Steve had been laying on his back on the bed while Bucky rode him, making him plant his hands on his lover’s chest as an anchor and come to think of it… Steve hadn’t complained once about it, not verbally or otherwise, he had even been the one to move Bucky’s hands from the death grip they had on his shoulders to his pecs. And now the previously white handprints Bucky had left on his chest and going from red with returning blood to purplish- already bruising. The shapes of his own hands being obscured by the obscene press of his pecs together that happens wherever he lies on his side as he is now. 

Huh. 

He flashes back to what he had heard Steve do earlier, or what he thought had happened, grabbing his own pecs after Bucky had fallen asleep on them. Like he was testing his own impulsive reaction to the touch. 

Bucky yawns- looks like Steve’s doing his own research and testing then, investigating whether or not he likes having Bucky mess with his tits. 

The brunette drifts off into sleep without realizing his little slip, calling the mounds of muscle and smooth skin 'tits' rather than pecs, the corner of his lips twitching in his sleep imagining Steve’s sudden confusion about why just having consistent pressure on his tits had gotten him hard- then thinking he’s sly when he asks Bucky to ride him into next week and inadvertently getting his tits squeezed much harder than he bargained for and drive him out of his mind as a result. 

After that night the tides change. 

It takes seemingly forever for Steve to open his own mouth and admit he likes the way it feels when Bucky messes with his tits. And even when he does its just whispering a little, "yeah" out after Bucky asks if he enjoys this, pinching his right nipple at the same time. However, over that time where he does open up and let Bucky have free range of his chest because it feels too good to rail against he stops cowering away from Nat when she asks to go for a run together, not bothered by the age old sports bra joke anymore. He stops shying away from Tony when he taps the star on his chest, instead pretending to be angry and scaring the pants off of the genius. He gets more comfortable publicly, freely readjusting his own shirt or scratching the occasional itch out in the open rather than slinking away into the bathroom to do it. 

Still he doesn’t ask Bucky for it. Instead getting the message across by being very enthused when Bucky decides to love up on his pecs. Also when he's particularly strung out he'll sometimes throw himself into the wind and grab Bucky's mismatched wrists and tug them up to his chest, typically stopping at his ribs and letting go with a little whimper. Bucky smirks everytime, occasionally pretending he doesn't know what Steve wants, questioning him to see him turn red enough it might be cause for concern. Once or twice he slips into calling them tits, both on accident and to see Steve’s horrified expression at how much it turns him on, which there is ABSOLUTELY no denying, not at all. Afterall, the first time Bucky did it he came on the spot. In his pants. Trying to hump forward into the solid plain of his lover's torso and failing miserably when he can't effectively move himself. Too caught up in his arousal. 

So you could say Bucky’s happy with his training, and yeah, sometimes it feels dangerously close to manipulating Steve but… the guy gets so affected now, just a brush of his chest and he’s panting. It’s irresistible. And Steve doesn’t mention it and he’s never been one to shy away from confrontation, so, if he was sore about it there’s no way in hell it would’ve lasted this long. It’s not like he’s going to make a habit of pushing Steve to be better through sexual acts anyway, this was just something that had to be done this way or not at all. 

When he does start to ask for Bucky to love on him in that way though… oh boy, then Bucky realizes the beast he's fed. They both need it bad all the time anyway, the serum doing it’s job in making every system in their body run on high, so adding another very easy, high intense turn on into their regular mix of things is interesting and truthfully Bucky figures he only broke through the barrier of verbalizing his wants because Bucky had been playing extra dumb for a little bit and Steve had felt like he was gonna explode if he didn't get his way. He's complained about that before- being hazy and high with enough denied orgasms to take down any regular person for days and whimpering with honest to god tears rolling down his face begging to cum 'cause he felt like he was "gonna die of blue balls, please, Buck. Need to cum or ‘m gonna explode-" 

Even though Steve's newly discovered love for Bucky's hands and mouth on his tits takes up a lot more of their leisure time Bucky can’t bring himself to be even slightly annoyed. Not in the slightest. Changes he began to notice from the first time he really focused on Steve's chest have grown. Leaving him looser and cheerier. Both of which have weirded out Natasha and Tony, and that's just sweetened the whole thing even more, they deserve a little uneasiness for making his guy's self esteem dip lower. He'll, he hopes it weirds everyone out- truly he does hope so. Everyone (excluding Banner and surprisingly, considering cultural differences, Thor) should in the least get a taste of the unmanageable unease Steve's felt for years. 

However, forget tides changing- instead imagine tides disa-fucking-ppearing out of the blue because one morning when Steve's got past squirming away from Bucky's lightest touches to his chest, past letting his hands linger, past having nothing else to focus on but Bucky's hands on his chest, past having his lips on his nipples and pecs, past admitting that he likes it and likes it an awful lot, and past indirectly asking for it, past (but not immune) to having Bucky call his chest other things than pec (re: tits) things get turned upside down. 

See, the seasons had changed with the intervention Bucky had planned. Going from late summer to fall to mid winter, and winter in NYC is intense as it always has been. Steve is proof of that, having spent several of them in bed with various illnesses directly caused by the cold and the draft in every apartment back when nothing wasn’t too expensive despite being cheaply made. His lungs couldn’t take it back then, cold, dry air leaving his lips literally pale and chapped enough to look blue, wheezing breaths punctuating every rough, gasping sentence he was able to get out. Bucky remembered hearing his ma pray for Steve every evening during the winter. But even then Bucky isn’t sure the season was this bad. Although who can really know, temperature wise it’s mostly the same but the wind chill and humidity have, making it seem so much worse. Or at least that’s what the weather man on TV blames, personally Bucky blames being fucking frozen for long periods of time. 

He has yet to ask Steve if he feels the same way about the season- mostly because he doesn’t want to bring up his time in the ice if he can help it -but judging from all the extra blankets that appear from hidden closets and as gifts from other people he suspects he’s correct. 

In the least Bucky knows he’s more caring about staying out of the weather because Steve had trotted off to the home gym on their floor rather than going running with Sam this morning, claiming that it was literally too cold to go outside and Sam had told him to not bother with going for a run by himself because if he did he’d fall and break his hip. Which, yes, Bucky is very aware was a “you’re old, grandpa” joke but he couldn’t care less because as far as he’d be willing to go to keep it a secret, he does like Sam. There’s something about the guy, maybe just because he served or because he shares so much of that willingness to challenge authority with Steve but either way, the guy reminds him of the people from their original lifespans but… modern. He doesn’t know- kindred spirits maybe. 

Either way, their morning run was skipped but Steve is a professional who intends to stay in tip-top shape so he can save the world whenever it calls upon him, so he hurried off to said home gym. Humming and doning one of his compression shirts (that he’s finally begun to wear again) and some simple sweats, a water bottle dangling from one hand. That had been after coffee was made and consumed, since then, Bucky has crawled back into bed to beat the chills threatening him and tucked into the book he’s been working his way through.

-

Steve is cursing himself (and Sam but to a much lesser extent is he cursing his friend) for not just braving the cold and taking it if he’s dumb enough to slip on ice or snow or whatever hazard comes with a snow storm yesterday followed by a freezing rain storm while they slept. It’s not that he hates running on treadmills, no, they’re fine. He does prefer to have moving surroundings while he runs and not feel like a hamster on a wheel, stuck in place, but that’s not really it. It’s probably more that he doesn’t have anyone to distract him while he runs, no one to yell at or tease really, that’s the reason for his current issue. 

The current issue being that he has an erection. 

For no reason. He’s just running and there’s nothing that should turn him on like this because he just got fucked good enough late last night that it’s put a little unsteadiness in his stride this morning and- oh.

He swallows suddenly, choking. Oh. Oh, god. Fuck, that’s… that would make sense.

Steve looks down, panting lightly with the sweat he’s beginning to build up, his heart pounding for a different reason when his issue makes his field of vision. Last night when Bucky had purred in his ear on the couch his dick was immediately on board, leaning into the solid wall of muscle that he is and melting with the sultry tone of voice and charm dripping off of his best guy. He had opened him up for his dick right there on the couch after “finding” some strategically placed lube, stroking his inner walls and prostate and tugging on his rim while he laid face down on the fabric, undoubtedly staining it with the way his dick was drooling. Then he had flipped them, pulling Steve into his lap and grabbing at him greedily, guiding him onto his own dripping cock and setting him down. Letting gravity pull Steve down onto his dick. 

His rhythm on the treadmill falters, his toes curling in his sneakers with the memory of the slow stretch. 

After Bucky let him control the rhythm for as long as he could apparently take it, he had gripping his waist and pulled him up and down on his cock until he was bouncing, making his chest jiggle in a way that a while ago would’ve made Steve want to cry from embarrassment instead of need. And now running, with his chest doing a very similar movement, his dick has perked up. Hungry for those fucking outragously gorgeous lips, the sound of his voice reverently telling him about how pretty his rack is-

Steve hits the button to stop the treadmill without looking at it, nearly tumbling over as he tries to get off of it, slowing down to a walk with the declining speed of the belt beneath his feet, dizzy all of the sudden with the crashing waves of need hitting his shore. Moaning out loud when he steps down and his chest follows gravity quicker than the rest of him, the sound immediately being pulled out of him without his conscious decision. An entirely involuntary reaction after having Bucky give him so much wondrous attention to his chest lately.

He leaves the room that contains their gym and unsteadily makes his way to the living room, whimpering aloud when he doesn’t find Bucky on the couch or in the kitchen, squeezing his hand over his cock as he walks past the couch on wobbly legs. Thinking, in depth, about all the festivities they’ve had on that particular piece of furniture.

The blonde has gotten rid of his shirt by the time he’s gotten to the hallway that leads to the master bath and bedroom, panting for a different reason then exertion when the smooth dri-fit fabric brushes the hardened skin of his nipples. Perked up like his dick in desperate interest. 

The reaction Bucky has to him barging into the bedroom tells him all he needs to know- he looks out of it. Or maybe mad with it.

Bucky’s just laying on the bed, propped up with a couple of pillows against the headboard with a book cradled in his hands. He drops the book. His light blue eyes sweep Steve’s body and come back into their eye contact darker, affected by whatever he’s seen in Steve, blown wide with lust and a twinkle of surprised amusement. Steve loves those eyes. Needs those eyes and their owners desperately. He reels forward, somehow getting onto the bed and straddling Bucky’s lap without falling or tripping or stumbling. Teleporting in his own mind because of the override with arousal swamping him. 

Whimpering and wiggling in his lover's lap, Steve presses his chest forward into Bucky, not caring about how purely insane he must appear because he needs this dammit and Bucky’s not doing anything but looking at him. He feels his partner's newly deepened breath on his bare skin. Anchoring onto the top of the headboard he curls his fingers around it and pressing forward even while he realizes he’s literally putting his chest into Bucky’s face. Getting as close as he can to telling Bucky to just open his mouth and love on his pecs as he can without putting words into their heavy atmosphere. Serves him right for making it impossible to run because he’s thinking about getting fucked. Chafing his fucking dick because it’s so hard in his pants and possibly rubbing his nipples raw with how hard they are. 

His chest aches and he’s not sure whether or not it’s psychological, if he’s focused on his chest being so much apart of his inconvenient hard on that it too feels swollen with blood or if his nipples just get this hard every time he’s turned on but he’s never taken the time to notice. He can’t be sure and sitting in Bucky’s lap is not helping him achieve clarity. 

“Ple-pleas-”

“Stevie- doll?” 

They both speak at the same time, stopping and starting over and making their words collide again. Given- Bucky’s are much more composed and confused than the gasping need soaking into Steve’s stuttered pleas. He whines and squeezes his thighs around Bucky’s hips where his legs have made themselves at home instead of making for another reach towards words. Hoping he can just get Bucky as desperate as he is and make him not question anything- just give in. But what happens is Steve just accidentally rubbing his cock into the brunette’s stomach and gasping with it. Feeling himself leak into his boxers- his face flushes harder. 

Coils of shame and arousal dance around each other and then tangle into one with the decision that he needs this and is going to go for it. Arching his back more and getting a better angle for Bucky to be forced to stare at him. The intoxicating mixture of embarrassment and pleasure settle behind his groin with a pulse of heavy desire, the heat of his blushing cheeks spreading to his ears and down to his chest, his, his-

“Please.” He gasps out, his mouth being delayed to his brain’s constant chatter, he just wants to be touched and to hear Bucky call his chest… his chest- to, uhm, use that word he’s started using in relation to his chest. 

Bucky pistons his hips up once, chuckling with the groan it pulls from his guy, dragging both his hands up from his waist up to his chest. Enjoying the sight immensely. Curling his fingers around Steve’s chest, he squirms, pressing harder against his hands, high noises falling from his lips with the way it starts to scratch the primal itch inside of him. Thanking whatever deity people believe in these days for Bucky’s lack of drawing this out. Not teasing him. He doesn’t think he could take that right now. 

“Wha’s this, doll, huh?” Bucky squeezes both his hands at once, kneading the sensitive muscle and skin of his chest, and Steve feels a thumb brushing over one of his nipples, lightning shooting down his sternum with it. He shivers, panting and nodding his head without reason- not thinking with his stewing desperation. 

God, so much for not teasing.

“C’mon, baby, gotta tell me. Thought you were goin’ to workout-” one of his hands leaves his chest and goes to cup the bulge in his sweats instead. He keens at the loss and then moans raggedly with it, stuck between the argument of getting more touching to his dick or having the sensation focused on his chest, “don’t think this counts as a workout, I mean it does get the blood flowing but…” 

Steve grinds forward helplessly, gasping, jaw hanging open, curling downward with his need and mouthing sloppily at Bucky’s cheek. Seaking out his lips but not caring when he can’t get the right angle. “Nnn-need, guh, please. Ple-please! You- I, I nnneed- hnnn, I-” Steve whines, unable to get his lips and tongue to work in unison, his frustration leaking out of his mouth with the pathetic noises and out of his eyes. Already driven to tears. 

Bucky just, chuckles, swiping his fingers over one nipple. Then the other. “Poor baby,” he coos evilly. Steve doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s smirking- he can fucking hear it. He scoots closer, letting his head tip backwards rather than folding forward and trying to kiss Bucky, just hoping that Bucky will see his chest and go for it. 

Steve moans, ending the sound with a wail when Bucky doesn’t continue moving from his collarbone down to his nipple, stopping at the crest of his pecs and growling out another tease, “what was that? Didn’t hear you-” smirking into his sweaty skin. 

Heat sweeps down Steve’s back, dripping down like sweat and pooling at the base of his spine, he whimpers uselessly again, gripping the headboard hard enough he feels splinters begin to form under his fingers. His frustration builds, boiling over like everything else in him, and he shakes his head, tasting his tears, “nnn-no. Jus’, you- need-” 

Bucky grabs his arms, chuckling at the hiccup that gets shoved out of Steve's chest when he stops touching him there, guiding them around his neck instead of breaking the bed. Bucky groans heartily at the show of twitching muscle in front of his face when Steve flexes, grabbing at Bucky harder, dragging him in even closer so his nose touches his overheated skin. Bucky grins privately, licking a hot stripe up between his pecs and blowing a stream of cool air over the area.

“Ple-ease,” Steve mewls out, the word so tiny and broken in the middle that Bucky can’t help but indulge him, mouthing over his collarbone this time. 

Steve feels a spike of pleasure drive through his gut when Bucky puts his mouth on him, crying out with the overwhelming sense of satisfaction he feels with finally getting what he wants. Gasping when Bucky’s teeth scrape over his collarbone and his fingers harshly pull at his nipples, caressing the soft flesh and murmuring nonsense to him. Steve wiggles his hips, impatiently grinding into his stomach, throwing his head back further with the added sensation. Wondering if he would survive this had Bucky not shaved last night- how all this would feel with his stubble burning pretty red marks into him. He moans again, arousal brimming over. 

Bucky’s breath accumulates on his skin, a mist of heat settling over him and sending chills racing around his body with the air from his words, “yeah, baby, you got all confident on me now- coming over here and pushing your chest out at me like I know what you expect me to do with such a pretty sight.” Steve mewls, teased by how close Bucky comes to saying the word, “yeah, sweetheart?” 

Steve nods enthusiastically, damn near giving himself vertigo. 

“Yeah, thought so.” Bucky purrs into his skin, his lips brushing his skin in a tantalizing fashion, getting more serious about twisting and pulling at his nipples, making his squirming ineffective because he feels pinned. Melted under the pleasure. Boneless and helpless, submitting his body to whatever Bucky plans to do- how he means to make him feel good. 

“Don’ know what got you here but ‘m glad it did because, doll, lookit these,” Steve feels his rough hands cupping his chest, weighing the flesh in his hands almost and he’s compulsively obeying, looking down at himself. Keening with the slithering hot shame and boiling arousal that comes up when he sees that Bucky’s pushed his pecs together to make, uhm, make-

“Mmh,” he coos, looking dangerously up and licking his lips, Steve waits for the other shoe to drop. And drop it does- hitting Steve like a fucking building dropping on him.

“Lookit you- got a fucking exquisite chest Stevie, plump and juicy… almost like you got a rack, huh? Probably could actually set stuff on it if ya’ wanted, right?” Steve wails into Bucky’s hair, his body moving him without his violation, curling in on himself with the force of the arousal hitting him. Gutting him, really. “Yeah,” he continues, spurred on, “yeah, not just a rack though, no, these aren’t pecs that makes up a pretty rack, nah- these here” he grabs two handfuls of his chest, shaking the weight as much as he can, squeezing and jiggling it. And Steve’s going to pass out because there’s no blood in his head. It’s all gone to his aching cock and balls. 

“These are real tits, doll,” Bucky states. Plainly like he’s talking about the weather and Steve’s toes are curling as he climbs closer to his release, easy for it when Bucky talks like he is. His Brooklyn drawl fully on show with his magnetizing charm, dripping with swagger and confidence. “Don’ know how you even fit these in some ‘a the shirts you wear,” he adds like an afterthought, looking over his shoulder briefly like he’s looking for said tight shirt and Steve’s choking on the high wailing noise building in his throat, his eyes rolling back into his head when after he talks he wraps his lips around one of his nipples. Fire shooting through his chest and cutting into his core. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen, babydoll. Hiding ‘em away should be a crime-” Bucky bites down on the top of his chest, where his muscle begins to swell out and Steve howls. His fingers curling into Bucky and holding him there while he rocks his hips wildly, chasing his release that’s right fucking there. 

So close he can taste it on his tongue and Bucky just drawls out the gutting sentence that is, “tits like these look best when they’re bouncing, nice ‘n round, looking like they’re a little too full- like it hurts you a little maybe, ‘s why I like it why you ride me so much.”

And he says it like it’s nothing but Steve’s choking on his sob of Bucky’s name while he cries out, the very thing that got him here bringing him over his explosive edge. His cock painting the inside of his underwear and leaking into his sweats, shuddering waves of orgasm that jump between the rough manhandling Bucky’s got on his tits and the offbeat humping of his hips into Bucky’s stomach. Tears coming faster with his peak, dripping down his face and making him feel even messier. Easy and desperate. 

Thinking about how he must look when he ride Bucky and how it feels when he does, how caught up in it he gets and how it would look if his chest was swollen, his dick blurting out more cum at the thought of how he’d get a bigger chest. Maybe- uhg, maybe Bucky could knock him up and- holy. Fuck. 

That is not that path he needs to go down right now but it is somewhere he needs to be eventually… when he’s not cumming his brains out. 

He can hear Bucky mumbling awed things into his heaving chest and slowly ramping down the rough touches and pinches and twists of his hands over Steve’s chest. Stretching his orgasm but not for longer than he can handle. 

Steve curls harder into him, some of his muscles getting back with the program and nonverbally thanking him for the fucking ride that that was- and, oh, wrong fucking word because his dick twitches in his pants, dragging through the mess he’s made of himself. Bucky’s words echoing loudly inside his cranium. 

He hums and slides away from the grip he has on Bucky until he’s flat on his back on the bed. Panting and wincing vaguely when he can feel the uncomfortable pull of the overworked muscles in his chest- his tits, he thinks, flushing and squirming a little with it. 

Bucky chuckles from where he’s still sitting against the headboard, “that a no for riding me then?” 

Steve joins him in laughing softly, shaking his head, roughly swallowing, “gimme a minute.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me your thoughts on this because I could've totally written this to be much longer with more detail than this has but decided not to because I'm not completely crazy for this particular idea and have so many other ideas I need to write! 
> 
> (also if I disappear for long periods of time coming up- just knows it's because school is getting in the way of me writing)


End file.
